Don't Ever Say That
by DoYouCare.Why
Summary: I know it is wrong, but I can't help taunting him like this, like a mouse playing with a cat before its eaten. And then his lips are on mine, and his fist crashes into the wall behind me, and he's overwhelming me, but I love it and don't want him to stop.
1. Hermione

**A/N: Hey, guys! I'm a new author here, and naturally, the first thing I put up is smut. Don't worry - I'm not a pervert. I'm not sex-obsessed, and I'm not a silly fan. Check out my profile for more information. For this fanfic, I chose Draco/Hermione as the couple, but I purposefully made it obscure so you can choose your favorite couple. Hope you like! I'm always open for new ideas and I love critiques. (And no, I'm not begging for reviews).**

"Don't you dare walk away from this!" I scream, and he growls, turning back. We've been through this a million times, and it doesn't even matter what the first part is. We've fought about drinking, about sleeping in, about visiting his parents. He stormed out when I yelled at him for not putting away his clothes, and I've spent the night away when he cursed at me about reading the Daily Prophet over his shoulder.

"This? This? There IS no 'this'!" he hisses, stomping an inch closer. His eyes are dark, a stormy grey, and I shiver as his anger radiates off of him. 'This' could refer to anything, but I take it as the first steps towards a broken heart.

"Oh, so we're nothing, now?"

"The fuck we are!"

"We need to talk - " I cry, and his face darkens and I know it is wrong, but I can't help taunting him like this, like a mouse playing with a cat before its eaten.

And then his lips are on mine, and his fist crashes into the wall behind me, and he's overwhelming me. He bits my lip, and the taste of blood and him and that chocolate I ate earlier swirl together, and he presses his body right up against mine. "Don't," he growls, capturing my wrists with a barely-bruised hand. "Ever," and his grip tightens, stretching my arms far above my body. "Say," and they're pinned against the wall. "That." And he kisses me again, and suddenly there's rope stretching around my wrists and into the broken wall and his hands are roughly palming my breasts as he sucks on my lips.

"Please," I breathe, pulling at him, his shirt, ripping it slightly as I pull it over his head, his hands squeezing as our lip contact breaks. I run my hands down his chest, the hard angles and lines that I know so well, and he shifts me, tearing off my shirt with a ripping sound. He unbuttons my jeans and I pull them down, and his hands go to my thighs. He pulls them apart, hooking his calloused palms under my butt and lifting me so my legs are wrapped around his. He grinds against me, fiercely, savagely, and his fingers slip underneath my panties. He runs a digit against my clit and I moan, before he plunges two fingers into me with a growl, sucking my shoulder and leaving a mark.

I rake my hands down his back as he fingers me, plunging them in and out as I moan and writhe against him, back pressed against the wall, hands free of the ropes, and I can't remember how. And then I can't think straight and what is he doing to me, and I come undone, moaning his name as I jerk and shiver against him. He traces my lips with the same hand, and I open them, tasting myself on his fingers, sucking them. He groans and picks me up fully, kissing me as he stumbles towards the bedroom, tossing me on the bed. "You like that," he says roughly, "You like me fingering you against the wall, just like a little slut, huh?"

And his dirty words turn me on and I moan, and he goes, "Yeah, I bet you do, would you like to be tied up and helpless?"

"Y-yes," I force out, and he unclips my bra, leaning down to suck roughly on one nipple.

"You'll have to earn it though, won't you?" I push him against the bedpost and he willingly follows, catching my wrists again and licking my lips slowly. "No, no, no," he breathes, "I'm in charge here."

I kiss my way down his chest and dip my tongue into his bellybutton, and he groans loudly and pushes on my head. Taking the hint, I open his jeans with my teeth, wondering through my lust-filled haze how we got here yet again. But then I'm licking up the side of him, sucking, kissing the tip, using my hands and mouth as he jerks on the bed. I squeeze softly and drag my teeth up the bottom, and his hands fist in my hair, pulling it. So I do it again, and lick over it again, and he pushes my head again, close to losing control. He rolls over me and flicks his wand, and my hands suddenly tied to the posts. "Yes," he hisses, as I pull on them, "I like this. You, underneath me, totally helpless. You like it too?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Call me master," he commands, rubbing my clit, his mouth right above my breast. "You want me, you're begging for it, but you have to call me master."

"Yes, master," I moan, and this is turning me on so much I might come from listening to him, his rough, husky voice sending shocks down my body. "Please."

"Ah, slut, what do you want?" He rubs his cock slowly on my slit, before descending on my nipple. He bites it hard and I scream out, and he blows coolly on it, making me shiver. "Tell me what you want, slut," he breathes over the wet tip. He kisses the other one, before looking up at me, "Tell me."

"I want you, master," I sob, and he bites down again. "I want you! Please, master, fuck me like a dirty slut!"

"Fuck you?" his warm breath ghosts over my slit now, as he'd dragged his teeth down my body as I talked. "How? Like this, slut?" And his tongue delves into me, and I arch on the bed.

"Oh, master, please," I buck my hips. "Fuck me! I want you to shove your cock into me, to fuck me mercilessly! I want to be ridden so hard that I scream! I want bruises, _master_, I want you to pound into me with your big, hard fucking cock into my slutty pussy, please! I need you!"

He rubs his hand on my bum, covering it with my juices, before spanking it sharply. "Sluts don't get a say," he says harshly, dipping cum-covered fingers into my hole. "You do what I want, you dirty whore." As one hand stretches out my arsehole, the other spanks me vigorously. It causes sparks to shoot up my body and I groan breathlessly. He thrusts into my pussy one sweet, sexy time, before pulling it out and shoving it into my arse.

"Fuck!" I scream breathlessly and he murmurs it right along with me.

"Fuck, you're fucking tight," he thrusts more, and I'm moaning, and he's pushing in and out and almost cutting me in half, and suddenly he slips all the way in. I'm nearly bent in half and he's thrusting so hard the bed is rocking and _god-mother-damnit-to-hell_ it feels good. "You like this? You like my big cock in your dirty arsehole? You better be clean, slut, cause you're sucking my dick before round number two."

I know I'm clean, as I have a daily cleaning spell, and the thought of this dirty act pushes me over the edge. I come again with a mingled scream and he pulls out, shoving his cock into my mouth before I've come off my high. I suck it hungrily, imagining I'm tasting myself on his tasty cock and the thought excites me. He pulls out and palms my breasts once more, kissing me roughly before slamming into my pussy. My legs are wrapped around his waist and I'm hitting the headboard with each thrust, and I know I'll have bruises from his tight, rough grip and the scent of him, the spicyness, the sweat, the blood is filling my nose.

"Fuck, slut, I love you," he gasps, "You're as tight as a virgin, and ooh, that feels good, do it again, clench your pussy 'round my dick, whore, yeah, you like it hard?"

"Harder," I moan, and I've lost track of everything, completely wound up in this frustrating, infuriating, sexy man that I love so much, and he shoves into me once more and I've come again, and he finally spills his hot seed into my pussy and collapses on top of me, and how I wish we would fight and shag like this forever.


	2. Draco

**a/n 11-28-10: just went over this, fixed a few grammatical errors, added a couple sentences. thank you to all my reviewers!**

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She's sitting in her armchair when I return. Always sitting there. Always with a book that she never reads anymore, the same Hogwarts: A History that she carted around in school.

Head hazy and voice slurring, I stumble over my boots, spitting the swear out from around heavy lips. The sight of her, her gleaming skin and that wild hair, her pert nose and tensed lips, causes my anger to swell as I glare at her. "Go to bed," I order, and the words hardly blur into each other.

She still doesn't look at me, damnit, and simply says softly, "No."

Why does she do this? I swipe at my eyes with a heavy hand. "Fuck, go away." I'm prodding her, swearing, trying to ignite the fire I know she harbors within. "I don't want you."

"I know."

The solemn acceptance is the only thing keeps me from advancing. "You don't know a goddamn thing." And she doesn't, does she? She doesn't know why I leave, doesn't know how good I feel when the rush of air fills my lungs, how free and light I feel in the heavy bar, without her.

"So enlighten me." And she still doesn't look at me. She always does this, all righteous and holy, like using words like enlighten can change the fact that we have no right to be here, together, in this lonely house. She hates me, loathes me, and I hate her right back with a passion that surprises both of us.

I laugh harshly, the sound short and sharp in the dark air, the silvery shadows falling over the planes of the room. She torments me, as if I can open up to her like that, like I can trust her, like I can trust anybody. "Just go away."

Finally she stands, and the anger on her face is glorious, and why do I feel like I only know her when she's looking at me with such hatred? "Do you want that?" she asks, and steps closer, "Do you really want me to leave? Look at me, Draco, just goddamn look at me."

I look at her forehead, and my head is hurting and pounding and why doesn't she just leave me alone? "Maybe I don't want to."

"Soberis," is her only answer, and my head clears, but what right did she have to do that?

"I can take care of my bloody self!"

"Can you? Can you really? Because news flash, getting drunk every other night doesn't count as taking care."

How dare she lecture me, like she knows best, like she doesn't hide from the world in her precious books and cry in the bathroom for her dead parents every night, like she's the only orphan who was changed in the war.

"News flash, I don't fucking care," and it's an awful comeback but I hate every line of her gorgeous body. I wish she'd just be quiet and let me be, but once upon a time in a land far, far away, I'd liked that she cared.

She laughs now, and the sound is so different from my own. She takes another step closer and I stare at her hairline, the curly hairs frizzing, and she's about to cry. "Shh," she whispers, like I'm the one that needs fixing, as if I wasn't perfect and she didn't hate living with me. But it is all her fault. "It's okay."

"I always knew you were insane."

"At least I care."

"Don't make me laugh!" And I'm shouting and she looks scared, and suddenly I'm in control again and finally I'm not lost. Even though she's frightened, she has the goddamn nerve to lay her hand on my shoulder, like I want her comfort, and I'm strong enough to take care of myself! "Don't you dare touch me," I hiss, and she recoils.

"Stop it!" She screams, fury lighting every single line in her face, and we're almost nose to nose. "Stop pulling back, just let me in!"

"Stop trying," I tell her, and the determined look on her face nearly breaks my heart. I hate her so much that I can't live without her, and I stay away later and later but I always return. I've hated her and loved her for so bloody long I can't even tell a difference, both emotions blazing and consuming me in an endless cycle of fire. "You think you know everything? Think you can just bloody dissect me like one of your patients, hmm, honey?"

She flinches but doesn't back down, the one person who has never left me, and I loathe her for it. "Oh, dear, but I already have." She looks so triumphant, like isn't she clever? I smirk, and clench my fists, but she doesn't fucking leave. "You're scared, aren't you? Scared of me."

"I hate you."

"And that's awful, isn't it?" Her voice is soft, mesmerizing, and I can barely resist looking in her eyes. I grab her wrists and push her back, but she pulls herself forward despite my efforts. "You can't. Draco Malfoy can't even hate a mudblood - no, he loves her."

"I don't fucking love you, you crazed bitch!" The curses and slurs fall from my lips and I'm in school again, and she's yelling at me in her Gryffindor righteousness, and she's only a mudblood. A mudblood that cares about me.

"The war's over, Draco," and her voice is so warm it chills me down my rigid spine.

"Good to know," I bite back. I push her back again, as she's invading my space, and doesn't she ever learn? "I can do whatever the hell I want, then, can't I? I can go out and bloody well drink if I want to!"

"Don't waste your life like this!"

"Don't waste your life on me," I whisper, and she's suddenly there, holding me, my rock, and she's right, I want to hate every fiber of her being but I can't, and Hermione holds me and holds me and whispers "I love you" into my ear. She should be far away, leaving me alone, and one day the fire that consumes me will burn her down as well. "Go away."

I slam my fist on the floor but she doesn't even flinch, not when I curse at her and kick out at the cursed armchair she always waits in, and not even when my eyes prick with unshed tears.

"Don't...don't see me like this, Hermione," I whisper, and how I desperately want to be strong for her. I want to heal and be normal, I want to love her without hating her, but I just can't.

"If I don't, who will?"

"Don't you get it?" The calm is gone when she says that, like I'm her fucking responsibility and I twist to my feet, and she's still on the floor, looking at me with those accursed hurt eyes. "I'm never going to be normal, I'm never going to give you what you deserve! I fucking hate you, I hate you so much I bloody well think I love you, and that's not safe! I'm going to hurt you more, Hermione, you're going to die if you stay with me."

"What about what I want?" Hermione yells, and we're dancing the same dance once more, the exact same clichéd words that wind up in every silly romance book.

"You're almost as fucked up as I am," I hiss out, ruining the script that is expected of us.

She forges on without hearing, like she always does, and she should just give up! I don't need anyone to tell me what to do. I can do whatever I want! I'm not going to change for her, for anyone, and I damn well won't follow anymore orders! I've had enough of that. "I want you, Draco, I need you."

I choke out a laugh. "Don't hurt yourself," I whisper, and its barely audible.

"You're fucked up, I'm fucked up, we match."

I want to yell, to scream, to shake her, to watch the fear fill her eyes as she realizes what I am. But no matter how much I try, she just waits for me to put myself back together. "Leave, Hermione, you've done it before and do it again!"

"I will," she whispers, "I probably will. But I'm not leaving today, Draco, and neither are you."

I viciously punch the wall and turn on her, "Why the fuck not?"

"I told you."

"Well, you'd better repeat yourself," I grasp hold of her shoulders and force her to look at me, still avoiding those eyes.

"I love you." It calms me, chills me, the lies falling from her perfect lips.

"Say it."

"I love you, Draco." My name makes it worse, and her brown eyes are staring at me, filled with tears, and maybe she's not lying?

"Say it!"

"I love you, Draco." Hermione repeats it, again and again, and I order her to say the words that are calming me down, finally. She lies so well to me, over and over, that her words blend into truth.

"Say it," I whisper, my voice hoarse.

"You say it," her voice is almost as quiet as mine, and she slips her arms around me and rests her head on my chest.

My arms come up around her and I nestle my head in her hair. "I love you, Hermione."

"I know."

And just like that, we're okay again. I'm broken, and every time she patches me up, I break a little more. I know it won't last, I know the peace will shatter and she'll finally realize she doesn't belong with me. But for now, I'm content to hold her, this infuriating woman that won't give up, the one I'll forever loathe and love with my entire heart.

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**A/N: Hey, guys. This was intense to write. It's from Draco's perspective, and just a heads up: it's supposed to be confusing, a mash of emotions, a confusing blur of hatred and love. If this doesn't clear things up...well, I'm not sure I want it to. And to Keesha: I always meant it to be confusing and 'vulgar.' That was the intent. I wanted the dialogue to be 'off' with the story. In my view, their relationship is, as Draco puts it, "F***ed up." I feel like their words and actions would always be clashing, the hatred he can't let go of and her love would constantly be merging and rebounding. Then again, it _is_ my first story, so I value your opinion! If I do another smutty story soon (which will be likely) I'll definitely try to make the dialogue and story match.**

**Thanks for reading! Comments and suggestions are, always, carefully read and mulled over.**


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